For the third time this week, Norma has crept into your bakery just before closing time. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. This is risky. Despite your pastry shit, you’re still a citizen and she’s still a villain. An enemy to the public. And here she is — waltzing into your bakery unannounced and practically beggin’ to get sent downtown.

Only, with you, she’s not too worried. Your kindness is contagious. She’s never felt anything like it before. At first, she thought she was sick. Now? She doesn’t know what the hell to think. Clearly, you were a witch. You had her under some kinda fucked up spell. What else would explain the interest? The admiration? You were regular. Only, you weren’t. Not in — aaaand, you’d spotted her.

She stumbled out of her hiding place sloppily, leaning against the countertop and giving a half assed wave.

“Sugar.”

She greeted — though it came out more like a grunt. Her eyes went to the ground and her grip on the countertop tightened until her knuckles were white.